30
Dillon
“My belly’s fat,” Easton proclaims, rubbing his hands over his slightly extended stomach.
“That’s what happens when you eattwoburgers and a mountain of chips,” Jamie says, grinning.
“Chips?” Easton frowns.
“He means fries,” Ash supplies. “In Ireland, we call them chips.”
“Huh.” His nose scrunches. “What’s Ireland like?” he asks, climbing into my lap. He snuggles against me, and when his little warm hand lands on my bare chest, I practically melt into the chair. Today has been amazing, and I want a million more days like this.
“Very green,” I tell him.
He pins me with wide trusting eyes. “Like the sky is green and all the roads and everything?”
I chuckle, tweaking his nose. “No, silly. The sky is still blue and the roads are the same color as here. It means that there is lots of green grass and lots of mountains and trees and bushes. There aren’t as many cities or as many tall buildings as in America.”
He curls his legs up, snuggling closer, and I could die from contentment right now. My fingers weave through his dark hair as he looks up at me. “Can I go to Ireland with you, and can we climb mountains?”
“Hopefully, someday.” I glance over at Viv. “If it’s okay with your mommy.”
Viv has her shades on so I can’t tell her reaction. After a bit of a shaky start earlier, she seems to be processing everything okay. I swear that woman has immeasurable strength. She never ceases to amaze me.
“We can visit Ireland. Maybe next year after the band has finished their tour.”
She let me tell Easton about our impending tour because neither of us wants it to be a huge shock when I have to up and leave. I know it will be hard for my son. It’ll be excruciating for me, and I honestly don’t know how I’m going to do it. I don’t want to leave him or Viv. I never want to be without either of them again.
“Yay.” East fights a yawn.
“We should get going,” Viv says.
“Not a snowball’s chance in hell.” Ash pushes the jug with the pink gin mix toward Viv. “It’s not even seven. There’s no way you’re going home yet. East is fine here.”
Ash has been amazing with Viv, and I’m happy to see them renew their friendship. Ash struggles to make friends with other women, especially within the industry we work in. Most of the women she has met are trying to use her as a way to get to the band, and she doesn’t trust easily. She rarely talks to Cat anymore. It’s been too difficult with them living on different continents. Besides, Cat was never the friend Viv was.
I expect Viv to protest because I know she’s a stickler for routine with Easton, which I respect and admire. She always puts him first, and I only love her more for it. But I guess her desire to not return to her empty lonely home is stronger today because she doesn’t mount any further arguments, happily accepting the gin Ash pours into her glass.
Twenty minutes later, East is sound asleep against my chest. I press my lips to his hair, closing my eyes and inhaling the familiar scent of my son.
Nothing compares to this.
Not even standing in front of thousands of screaming fans.
This little boy is already my entire world, and I would do anything to ensure his happiness. Lifting my head, I find Viv watching me. She’s removed her glasses, and I see the emotion swimming in her eyes. “I can put him to bed,” I whisper, “and just carry him out to the car when you’re ready to leave.” If I have my way, neither of them will be leaving tonight, but I don’t want to admit that and freak the fuck out of Hollywood.
She thinks about it for a few beats before nodding.
I get up slowly and carefully, repositioning my sleeping son in my arms. He stirs a little, murmuring in his sleep as I walk off. Viv comes with me, and we don’t talk as I carry Easton inside, walking the length of the hallway until I reach the stairs to the next level.
Emotion is heavy in the air as I push open the door to Easton’s nature-themed bedroom. Viv sucks in a gasp as I stride across the wooden floor of the large room, toward the custom pine bed. I’m glad I decided against putting his bed in the little treehouse fixed against the right-hand side of the wall. While the ladder is large and sturdy, there is no way I would’ve been able to climb up to it without waking East.
Viv brushes past me, pulling back the green and blue duvet. Very gently, I place our son down, grateful Viv made him change out of his swimming trunks before we ate dinner. He’s wearing light Nike training shorts that are comfortable to sleep in. Viv tucks the covers up over him, leaning down briefly to kiss his cheek. When it’s my turn, I press a lingering kiss to his brow, attempting to calm my errant emotions.
We tiptoe to the door, both of us turning around at the same time to look at him. I have pictured Easton in this room many times since I designed it for him in the weeks after I discovered he was my child. Throwing myself into remodeling the bedrooms and adding the room for him in the studio helped to distract me from all the shit that was going down.
“Dillon, this is just…wow,” Viv whispers, her face lighting up.